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Ananya Bhaskar Quote - Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.

Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.

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Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Forever Land Lips Name Sleep Snow
Death is the mercy of life on us.
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Death Life Mercy Ourselves
Poetry is an eulogy, sung for hope and love.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Hope One Liner Poetry Sing
He’s shy, he talks to her only. She’s bold, she listens to him only.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Bold Herself Himself Listening Shy Talk
He looks up in the sky. I count stars in his eyes.
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Count Eyes Himself Sky Stardom
You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Earth Eyes Happiness Heaven Reality Smile
He killed her autumn with his cherry blossom smile.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Autumn Himself Kill Smile
Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Blush Fall Flower Himself Watch
When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Agony Death Herself Hold Learning Pain Soak
We spent a life time loving, to write an ode to heartbreak in the end.
ANANYA BHASKAR

End Heart Broken Life Love Myself Time Writing
You deserve the love that stays with you like the childhood poem you still remember by heart.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Childhood Deserve Heart Love Poem Remember Stay Yourself
Exist so loud that even if you die tonight, your deeds illuminate like stars.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Death Existence Illumination Loud Night Stardom
You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Break Up Breathe Memories Relationship Wall Yourself
Poem is a phoenix, whose wings are painted in the colors of nostalgia.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Color Nostalgia Paint Phoenix Poem Wings
And then writer in you is so homesick of pain, that you plead your wounds to bleed and ache.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Ache Blood Home Sick Wound Writing Yourself
Let me be a poem freely hung in your diary. Like the moon, on the night sky.
ANANYA BHASKAR

Diary Freedom Myself Night Poem Sky

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